


Desperate

by MechBull



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechBull/pseuds/MechBull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jemma does not excel at preparation and Hunter pays the price.</p><p>(A bit more FitzSimmons-y than Huntingbird-y, if you're searching on the tags. And a couple hints of Simmorse.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate

It took a few moments of searching before her fingers snagged the condom.

“Last one,” she observed, flipping back over and handing it to him.

He was apparently in no rush to put it on, though, and trapped it between her shoulder and his palm while pulling her into another kiss. 

“’K,” he mumbled against her lips. “I’ll go to the store tomorrow.”

“Buy ‘em in bulk,” she growled, grinning. 

And then her grin disappeared immediately at the knock on her door. She turned to it and stared, rather wild-eyed.

“Uh, I’m busy!”

The only answer was another knock, more insistent, and Jemma calling out her name urgently.

“No Bobbi here! Go away!” Lance shouted in a ridiculous fake accent.

“Bobbi, _please!_ ”

“Ugh,” Bobbi huffed. She pushed Lance away and rolled off the bed, grabbing her robe and ignoring him as he face-planted into the pillow with a groan. 

The last thing she expected to see when she opened the door was a naked Jemma. Well, not naked. She was wrapped up in a sheet, and she was hopping back and forth to keep her bare feet off the cold ground. Her hair was incredibly messy, and she looked desperate.

“Um,” Bobbi said, smiling a bit despite her own rather desperate urge to get back to her previous activities. “Did Hunter ask you here for a threesome or something? Because… I’m not saying no.”

“I’m not either,” she heard from behind her, and she rolled her eyes. 

“What?” Jemma seemed too confused to even acknowledge them. “No, I – ” she looked around Bobbi at Lance and dropped her voice low. “Do you have a condom?”

Bobbi’s eyes bugged out. “One. And it’s spoken for.”

Jemma immediately whined, dropping her face into her palm momentarily, before realizing she was about to drop the sheet too. She hiked it back up. 

“Go ask Skye!” Bobbi added, trying to be helpful. Just not _that_ helpful.

“I did,” she lamented. “Apparently they aren’t even, you know, doing it.”

“They aren’t?!”

“No, I guess – I don’t know. She’s concerned about shaking the whole place down if she _loses control_.”

"Huh. That – ”

“Bobbi!” Jemma interrupted, not so easily sidetracked, unfortunately. “Is there any chance you’d consider – ”

“Are you crazy? No.”

Jemma reached out, grabbing Bobbi’s robe and pulling her close. “I’m begging you. I’m _begging_ you. You can sleep with Hunter whenever you want. But it’s finally happening with Fitz. Finally! And I – I don’t know how many more false starts and roadblocks I can take.”

Bobbi wavered.

“Don’t do it, Bob!” Lance shouted, sounding a little nervous.

“If not for me,” Jemma continued, almost manic, “do it for Fitz. Do it for all those nerdy little science kids pining away in labs somewhere.”

Bobbi sighed. She pried Jemma’s fingers off her robe, then turned and walked back to Lance. He shook his head at her, eyes wide and betrayed, and held his fist tightly to his chest. Darting a hand out, she dug her fingers into the muscles of his arm until, with a little cry of pain, he let go. The condom dropped into her other hand, a little crumpled but still intact. And then she walked back over to the door.

“Use it wisely,” she said, handing it to Jemma, feeling almost like she should be humming some sort of military march. Or funeral dirge.

Jemma exhaled a grateful little squeak, put both hands to Bobbi’s cheeks and kissed her square on the mouth before quickly catching her sheet again, and scurried away, nearly tripping. Bobbi turned to face Lance. She smiled regretfully when she saw him flopped on his back, the pillow over his face in an attempt to stifle his curses or perhaps suffocate himself.

"Sorry.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” came the muffled reply.

Bobbi shrugged. “At least he’ll die happy,” she pointed out.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a silly little thing that popped into my head on the commute home. Sort of, but not quite, part of my Girls' Night series.


End file.
